Twelve
by RedHeadFanFreak
Summary: A permission given takeoff on RK Ryune's Organization XIII backgrounds.  Larxene centric.


I was reading over a concept that RK Ryune had thought up for Demyx and Axel. Both are characters that she is greatly in-tune with, and she was able to climb so far into their minds that she caught a glimpse of what used to be their others' lives. This was cause for many discussions between us, as she eventually wrote them down and posted them on FFN. I had wondered, for a while, which of these nobodies, if any, I might possibly be able to establish a connection with. My results? Thunder and Time, Larxene and Luxord.

I brought the ideas up to Ryune, asked if it would be alright if I tossed them out there as a possibility after she had already started the process, she ok'ed it, and here we are. This is a Larxene-centric idea. The other, on Luxord, is still being finished, but I assure you that it will be posted soon.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories, or of the characters. The only thing I own here is the concept and the words.

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People were always curious about how I, a mere woman, was able to pull my way through the ranks of a pirate ship. It was common lore that females on a ship cursed the crew and the voyage. Perhaps it was because no one ever knew that I was female except for my fellow crewmate, Jonathan. 

The two of us had met at the pleasant age of four. We were playmates, best friends that wreaked havoc around the tavern that our fathers co-owned. We built muscle and character carrying around pitchers of ale and rum to customers. We gained knowledge by listening to their drunken tales of piracy and adventure.

By the time we were eight it was regular for us to be caught in the cellar, stacking crates, kegs, and sheets together to form our own ship. We fought off curses, island natives, naval officers, and, most importantly, Davy Jones. We were spanked, loudly and mercilessly, for these activities.

The summer I turned nine I was given lessons in knife usage by one of the many regular sailors. He taught me how to conceal, throw and fight with the small weapons. In his drunken stupor he took to calling me Lee, the name of a young boy he knew long ago in his homeland.

I learned quickly and effortlessly, a natural with the weapons. Jon, on the other hand, had become quite skilled with a pistol, and the two of us spent many hours entertaining customers and practicing in the quiet of the cellar. The other boys of the city knew not to rumble with us, their scars and bruised skin the result of such fights.

Age ten brought fight after fight with parents and officers of the law, most of which resulted in our being grounded, locked in our rooms, or made to work so hard that we could barely move by the time the day was over. I suppose it was only natural for us to be inspired so greatly by a large pirate ship in the harbor that we packed our belongings and escaped our childhood homes in the middle of a stormy night.

We traveled up and down the coast, paying our way through odd jobs or entertainment. Being a girl caused many issues until one day Jon stole a pair of sheers and cut my dark curls from my head. We decided that it would be best for me to go by Lee, though Jon thought my façade would never work.

"Those blue eyes'll give you away," he used to tease. "No man has eyes that color."

We were twelve when the captain of the pirate ship _Nymph_ found us. We were sitting on the docks, debating where the next day would take us, when the scraggily man approached us with the promise of riches and a home if we joined his crew.

The _Nymph_ was a decent ship and her crew was accepting of the two new cabin boys. They were a group of rude and angry men, but they were a family, and you could see their commitment to each other even as they drove their swords through the enemy's gut.

I was hardened during this time. While I never used the foul language the rest of them did, I came to enjoy the feel of victory, even when it meant that there were ten men dead at my feet. I was prepared to live by the sea, die by the sea, and I knew that Jon was prepared as well. The crew changed my name yet again, calling me Learne, as I constantly absorbed information, and the only time I was considered anything different was when we were locked in battle and became "savage," as they put it.

We pushed our way up the ranks over the years, gaining expertise in many areas, until I was finally appointed as the _Nymph_'s Navigator. The storms became my duty, and I spent many nights admiring stars, clouds, and, whenever I could, lightening.

Jon and I still had our fun, and he kept my secret well. We drank and laughed together whenever we could, fought side by side in battles, and, occasionally, while the rest of the crew gathered in a brothel, we stayed behind on the _Nymph_ and had our own encounters of love there.

We were almost eighteen when the storm of the century struck. The _Nymph_ was tossed mercilessly. Men flew from the ship, and those who could hang on were soon frightened by the appearance of black monsters. The creatures leapt from man to man, burying them in a pile of shadows and leaving behind nothing.

The waves were too high for us to be able to swim, and Jon and I climbed to the crow's nest with a few fellow sailors in the hopes that these odd creatures wouldn't be able to reach us. I gripped my knives in horror as they began to scale the mast after us, and Jon and I huddled together.

A bolt of lightening struck a few off, but the rest continued their long climb. The men around us jumped, hoping that their beloved sea would save them. Jon was swept off with them, and I remember his horror filled eyes as one of the creatures jumped after him and began tearing away at his chest.

I was no better off, and could only swing at the monsters as they smothered me, grabbing at my chest just above my heart. There was another strike of lightening somewhere near the ship just as I felt a clammy hand reach into my chest and grab my heart. I screamed in pain, trying to throw it off, but it clung on tightly and squeezed at my heart. The beating was slowing, being stifled by the icy hands. I recall rolling about the crow's nest, facing the sky and wondering why the sea had been so cruel. I had always known I would die at sea, that Davy Jones would claim me before anyone else had the chance, and as I saw the bolt of lightening striking the mast the terror and pain left me and my world went dark.

I woke on a patch of grass and wondered first how I had gotten to land. My chest ached, not exactly painfully, but as though something had been ripped from it. I realized that I was naked, singed scraps of clothing hanging from my arms and torso. I covered myself with my arms as best I could, and began to survey my surroundings more carefully. My knives were close by, and I reached out to them and pulled them closer. My body relaxed as I looked around, only spotting an abandoned-looking house nearby.

I pulled myself up slowly, mildly curious as to whether or not there would be clothes inside. I picked my knives up, but an electric shock ran up my fingers and arms as I touched them, and the knives disappeared.

Deciding I was dreaming, I made my way to the house, checking carefully for any people that might take advantage of a naked girl.

The door creaked as I opened it and a cloud of dust met my eyes and nose. I coughed for a moment and let my senses clear before I entered. I was in a large empty room. It was dusty and worn and I became more confident of my being alone as I walked through it.

"What're you doing here?"

I jumped at the male voice, and with a slight electric pulse my knives were back in my hands. I stared for a moment, more shocked than anything, then remembered where I was and what was happening.

A middle-aged man was standing on the landing above me, his long ponytail streaked with a bit of grey and one of his eyes covered with a patch. In a way, he reminded me a lot of my captain. It crossed my mind that I should be afraid, even if I could fight. This man had an air of knowledge and power about him and I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to handle him in my state of exhaustion and confusion.

But that was the moment that realization hit me—why wasn't I afraid? Why wasn't I feeling anything but a tiny hankering of curiosity?

"New recruit, huh?" The man spoke again. "Xigbar's the name. Who're you?"

I cleared my throat. "Learne."

He snorted. "Look more like an Arlene to me." His eyes ran up and down my body briefly and a smirk appeared on his face. I felt nothing from the gaze, no shame on his part, no embarrassment on mine.

He tossed a black robe down to me. "Cover yourself up. We may not feel, but we're all guys around here, and I think you coming in like that might be mildly distracting."

I was ushered into a headquarters of some kind and interrogated about my history. I saw for the first time that my brown locks had turned blonde, that my blue eyes had become brighter, and that my boyish build had given way to one that looked much more like a noblewoman's than a pirate girl's. The men around me teased with no emotion, and my reactions to them caused me to become known as a savage once more.

"The savage from the _Nymph_," Axel teased one day. Marluxia shortened it after a while to Savage Nymph, and when they didn't want to call me Number XII or Larxene, they resorted to the nickname. I used my power with words against them in return, often confusing them.

I took to lying around and reading, using my words or my skills when necessary, and built up a reputation as bitchy and cold.

And to tell the truth, I couldn't care less.


End file.
